An Orphan for the Mother
by Ozymandeos
Summary: I didn't expect any of this. I most certainly didn't want it. I mean, falling in with a guild of assassins as infamous as the Dark Brotherhood? Unthinkable; I'm not a killer...or at least I wasn't. But I guess this is my life now...and I admit, it's not all bad. At least I'm still alive. That's more than everyone else who tried the stunt I pulled can say.


_The whip cracked again and the scream I'd been holding in finally escaped. Even though I was shackled to the wall facing away from her, I knew that the orphanage's mistress would be sneering right now. And, as yet another strike of the whip tore open the flesh on my back, I finally let the tears flow. But Mistress Grelod didn't care. The whip just kept on falling, even as my pained tears swept runnels through the grime on my face. _

_This was my third punishment this week. The first two had been for minor infractions that I hadn't even done, but I'd been whipped anyway. And this one was simply for trying to uphold the Green Pact by refusing to eat the few stringy vegetables they gave in what passed for a meal here. I was used to the pain from being whipped… but not this close together. I could handle a whipping once a week, albeit barely. I could stand being locked in this torture room for entire nights, unable to even sit down without the rusty cuffs tearing into my fragile wrists. But the strikes on my already torn and battered back were just too much._

_Mistress Grelod seemed to take even more pleasure in torturing me than the others. It wasn't that she was kind to Nordic and Imperial children, but she was so much worse to elves like me. She wouldn't even take in the beast races. Even at just ten years old, I knew I'd be lucky to survive to sixteen and get away from this living hell. _

_My screams got louder, my sobs more pitiful, as the whip kept falling even after the allotted punishment was through. Just as it struck me that I was going to die, the hated whip stopped falling._

_"Stop! You're killing her!" I was vaguely aware of my older sister, who was only a few months away from getting out of here, yelling at the headmistress. If I'd been able to talk still, I'd have told her not to step in. Mistress Grelod punished people just for walking into this room, and talking back to her got punishments even worse than mine. _

_I abruptly felt the shackles around my wrists come undone. I fell to the ground with a whimper, which turned into an even louder scream than the others when I got kicked across the room, the wounds on my back dragging through the sand and gravel that Mistress Grelod kept on the floor to keep us 'filthy urchins' from staining it with our blood. _

_The last thing I saw before passing out was Arianna being pushed into the shackles. Then there was just darkness._

* * *

"Um…are you alright?" the boy in front of me asked, snapping me out of the memory of the last time I'd ever seen my sister. I hadn't believed the rumors that a boy this age would be trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood. So I'd found out that this was where he supposedly lived, and had used a few of my more… unsavory skills to break in.

To my horror the boy, who couldn't have been more than eleven, was indeed performing that dark ritual, complete with the corpse. He'd mistaken me, in my old and stained leather armor, for a member of the Brotherhood. And he'd asked me to kill Grelod. That had sent me into the flashback and awoken so many old emotions that I didn't know whether I wanted to punch something or cry.

"Yes…" I dragged out the word as I tugged off one of my gauntlets and knelt down. He tried to jerk away when I grabbed his wrist and pulled down his sleeve. Then I held mine up next to his, showing the faded scars on mine that matched the more livid, recent wounds on his. "I went through the same stuff you did. But for six long, terrible years. Grelod will die." My voice surprised me. It had dropped into a low, threatening hiss. The anger had overcome the sadness. And I knew I would get revenge for my sister.

"I probably won't come back here, but you'll hear of the hag's death soon enough."

I pulled on my gauntlet again and left before the boy could say anything. When I'd first left the orphanage I'd entertained thoughts of revenge, for my sister, myself, and all the other children the old hag had tortured and murdered. But I'd still been scared. Scared of her. Scared of taking the life of another person, even one as despicable as her. Scared of the guards and jail that would result if I got caught. But it had been two years since then.

Calcelmo had had the guards teach me how to use a bow when I started helping him with his work. I had shared his fascination with the Dwemer, even more so than his nephew, so he'd taken it upon himself to teach me everything he knew. Now I was in the best shape of my life, constantly traveling around to find new artifacts for his museum. I'd tried to put my past behind me after I started this, my scars the only reminder I usually had of my time in the orphanage. But now I was furious at all the things Gretel had done to us orphans.

I ignored the glares that the guards gave me as I ran out of the city and into the stables, swinging up onto my horse and setting off to Riften.

* * *

"You're sure that you're alright Miss?" one of the guards asked as I swung down off of my exhausted horse. "These bandits are getting bolder and bolder. We've had seven traders go missing this month alone, and probably three times that in normal travelers that we have no way of knowing about."

"I'm fine. Kina here can outrun anything these bandits throw at her," I told the concerned guard as I tossed a few Septims to the stable boy so he'd give her some extra food. "This war isn't good for Skyrim. I don't really care one way or another who wins, as long as they crack down on these bandits when they do."

"You're right on that point. I don't know how it is in the other holds, but the Jarl is too scared of getting attacked to let us clear out the bandit lairs. We're reduced to just hiring mercenaries and random adventurers to do it now." The guard returned to his post by the gate before finishing with, "Keep your nose clean while you're here, and have a good time."

I gave a murmured affirmative to that, even though I intended to do the exact opposite by committing a murder. But, of course, I couldn't tell him that. He seemed like a nice enough guard, so if I did get caught I hoped that he'd be the one to catch me. Was probably an Imperial under that helmet, considering that he wasn't a racist bastard like almost all of the Nords I'd met were.

Over the three-day hard ride from Windhelm, my anger hadn't cooled. If anything, I was angrier now. Every time I tried to talk myself out of what I was going to do, Arianna's face popped up into my head. Or the sound of her screams before I'd passed out. Or the faces of all the other children I'd known whose 'adoption' in the middle of the night had been followed by another mound of dirt appearing in the yard the next morning.

Before I knew it I found myself standing outside of the living hell where I'd spent six long years of my life. I faltered there, every single nerve in my body telling me to run as far and as fast as I could, but the thought of finally getting revenge for my sister drove me forward. And so, just as the sun drifted down behind the eaves of Honorhall Orphanage, I quietly opened the door and stepped inside, closing it without a sound.

My feet unconsciously carried me through the hallways, past the disused storerooms and the pointless rooms that Grelod never seemed to use for anything, and into the doorway of the communal bedroom. Even after my mind snapped out of the haze of horrible memories I'd fallen into, I still thought I was reliving something. Because there, right in the center of the room and surrounded by malnourished and abused orphans, stood the old hag herself, giving a tongue-lashing almost exactly like the ones I remembered. It took every ounce of self-control that I had to keep from firing the arrow that had suddenly appeared on my bow.

Even if I knew the children would love to see her die, the assistant, who I didn't recognize, wouldn't be so thrilled. I would have to find some way to kill her and get away without being caught. It shouldn't be too hard if she kept to her old habits. As long as she stayed in the same massive room she had while I was here, far away from the children, then nobody would know I'd killed her until morning.

I sank into the shadows as the children uttered a miserable 'Yes Mistress Grelod' before stumbling, exhausted, into their beds. The single candle that had been illuminating the entire room was blown out. Both women started toward the hallway I was standing in, and I sank into the shadows so they wouldn't see me. Even though I'd hated my years here, they'd taught me how to stay quiet and hidden in the shadows. I suppose I should be grateful to Grelod for making me need to hide to survive. After all, I doubted I'd be able to kill her without that.

My vision clouded over with a red haze as I fell into step a ways behind the two. The younger woman turned into a room I'd never seen used before, and the door shut with her none the wiser that I was there. Grelod didn't turn to go to her room though. I followed her all the way to her destination… the torture room.

When I went inside I lost it. It must have been the sight of an eight year old girl, her sides discolored with bruises and her back covered with infected wounds, shackled to the wall that pushed me over the edge. I knew everything that was happening, knew what I was doing, but I couldn't have stopped myself even if I'd wanted it to. The screams that six years of repressed pain, anger, and fear bursting out all at once elicited were loud enough that they set my ears ringing.

She tried begging for mercy after I smashed her arm with one of her own clubs. I just spat in her face and said, "You're asking for mercy? Maybe you should've given some. To Arianna, to Mori, to Lina, and to all the other kids you killed."

I was extremely surprised that her screams didn't bring the guards, or at least her assistant, down to check. By the time I said another word, every single torture implement aside from the shackles had been used on her. I'd broken her arms and legs, pinned her pulverized shoulder to the wall with over a dozen of her knives. Now all that was left was to kill her.

I grabbed her whip, the very same one which had scarred my back and that of so many other orphans, and started wrapping it around her neck.

"You should've expected this Grelod." I brought the lantern she had left in her closer, so she could see my face, and my eyes. "Do you remember me, Grelod? You killed my sister right in front of me. Made my life a living hell for six whole years, torturing me more than any other victim of yours. You left scars on me that will never heal, even if I live to be three hundred."

I tightened the whip, her eyes bulging out as her beloved instrument of torture choked the life out of her.

"And you know the worst part? You never even bothered to learn my name," I hissed in a voice that sounded positively demonic. Then I yanked harder. "It's Marina. And I'm making sure you can never scar any more children. Know that my only regret is that you deserved far worse than this."

And with that, she went limp. Just to make sure she was dead, I stabbed one of my arrows into the place her blackened, twisted, and frozen heart would have been had she had one. I stood up, panting from the exertion of letting my emotions run wild, and just stood there for a few seconds. Grelod was dead… I'd avenged my sister and everyone else she'd scarred or murdered. And, despite being coated nearly head to toe in blood, I regretted none of it.

A whimper brought me back to reality. The little girl had managed to turn her head around far enough to watch everything that I'd done. A surge of fear hit me. Fear that I might have scarred her mentally even worse than Grelod had. Then, in a timid, sweet little voice, she said, "She's…she's really dead? She can't hurt me anymore?"

And then she broke down into tears. I rushed to find the key to her shackles, and when I did I got them off of her as quickly as possible. With one arm I cradled her as she cried on my shoulder while the other dug around in one of the pouches on my armor for a healing potion. When I managed to get it out I started murmuring soothing words to her.

She calmed down a little as I dribbled parts of the potion onto her back. One wasn't anywhere near enough, but it would at least take the pain away and hopefully take away most of the infection. She cringed a little as each wound fizzed up, but then sighed in relief as the painkiller in the potion set in. What didn't go onto her wounds went into her mouth, where it would hopefully speed up her healing.

Considering that she had just seen me go crazy and butcher an old lady, her next words surprised me. "Could you adopt me?"

I was taken aback by the question, and it took a moment to think of an answer. As I did, I would have sworn somebody was watching me. But nobody was. So I felt it safe to say, "I'd like to, but not now. Maybe if you're a good girl and things work out, I can adopt you in a year or two. But right now I wouldn't be able to take care of you. You see, I'm an assassin in the Dark Brotherhood. I went through the same stuff you have, but I didn't let that stop me. When Aventus called for us to come and kill Grelod… well I decided to do it for free."

I held her for a few more minutes until she stopped crying. "I need to go now. Your life will be a lot better now that Grelod's dead. Be a good girl and don't tell anyone you saw me, and I'll come back to adopt you when I can. Okay?" I told her as I set her down and stood up.

"Al… alright. Just… please come back and adopt me when you can. I don't care if you're an assassin… I just want a mother," the little girl, who I had only just realized was a Dunmer, sniffled as she spoke.

"I will." I gave her a smile, knowing that I actually intended to keep the promise if I could. I felt kind of bad about lying that I was in the Dark Brotherhood…but I hadn't seen any other way.

I walked out of the room, still feeling like I was being watched, and turned a corner in the hallway. The moment I was out of the little elf's sight, two things happened. The first consisted of a sharp piece of metal coming to rest on my throat at the same time as sweet-smelling rag was shoved into my face. I tried not to breath in whatever was on the rag, but I failed. My head started to fog up as the darkened corridor started to spin. The second was a voice, almost a purr really, was muffled like it was coming from the other side of a large room.

"How touching, for a murderer."


End file.
